Cut Deep
by EvilBad
Summary: Post-endgame: one by one the companions were forced to leave the Champion. But what became of Hawke, and who stayed by her side? Warrior Sadie Hawke struggles with her failure in Kirkwall, betrayal by her lover Anders, and growing feelings for Fenris.
1. exit, pursued by Templars

Cut Deep - 1

_exit, pursued by Templars_

and

_what became of Anders_

Kirkwall was burning, and Hawke's first priority was to get the hell out of the city and away from the chaos. Mages and Templars fought openly in the streets, a cacophony of steel and sword against magic and fire. Neither side cared, or was even aware, that Orsino and Meredith lay dead in the Gallows. Cullen had sworn to her that he would hold off his own command of Templars from pursuing them, but Hawke knew his words would have no effect on the legions of Templars that would soon pour into the city. She had to act to save herself, and her friends.

Hawke left so many behind. Bethany was with them in the end, joining them to fight off the abominations Orsino and Meredith had become, but she would never know what happened to Bodahn, Sandal, Orana, or even her dog Fang. She hoped that they were all together, somehow, and that they had made it out of Kirkwall. She even wondered about her horrid uncle Gamlen, and about all the other acquaintances she had made in Kirkwall. Had any of them survived the firestorm she was leaving behind? Should she have warned them? Tried to rescue civilians?

There were so many that needed to be saved, but Hawke did the only thing she could do; she pushed through the sea of dead and dying, the smoke and fire, took her closest friends and ran.

Unable to leave by sea with the harbor up in flames, the rag-tag group fled along the coastline. In the dead of night, once the lights of Kirkwall had faded, the landscape was almost pitch-black. And almost immediately they had a new problem: Darkspawn. There were good reasons why Hawke and her companions never traveled the Wounded Coast at night.

"FDE," Varric muttered. "Fucking Darkspawn Everywhere." He absentmindedly stroked Bianca.

Hawke nodded. No one with sense was caught outside the city at night. Without the sun to drive them underground, great swaths of the Free Marches were definitely FDE. In the inky blackness above the cliffs, the party could sense movement, and watching eyes.

Warily, her various companions walked along the familiar paths of the Wounded Coast, tired but alert. By now the paths were narrow, too narrow to march all together, forcing the group to spread out or risk stumbling over the edge and taking a considerable fall into the sea. Merrill and Bethany were leading the charge, trying to get as much distance as possible between them and Kirkwall before the Templar armies began to march at first light. Aveline and her compliment of city guards were just behind, ready to defend if needs be. Fenris and Isabela walked together, with Sebastian trailing them. Hawke and Varric were bringing up the rear, where Hawke could keep everyone in sight.

For a time it was quiet, and wordlessly they rushed to make ground while they still could. When the first Hurlock hurled itself at them from above, it was immediately set upon by a cacophany of blades and did not last long. But from there a steady stream of darkspawn came to call, a stream that was rapidly becoming a river. As time ticked by the assault built to the point that they had long since stopped putting distance between them and Kirkwall.

Hawke bit her lip. She had let the darkspawn flank them, and now they were quickly becoming surrounded. Up ahead she could see all of her companions grappling with the wretched creatures pouring in from further up the coast. Meanwhile she had her own set of nasties coming at her side of the party, and she was forced to turn away to deal with them.

With her enormous battle axe, Hawke swept the field in front of her and knocked her heavier opponents off their feet, and in the crush of darkspawn many were pushed off the cliff onto the rocks below. She would allow none to pass. No more friends would be lost today.

The darkspawn kept coming, and she tore into them with gusto.

Varric stayed at her back while he and Sebastian picked off shades from the cliffs above before they could descend on the party. But their supply of arrows was not unlimited, and after this had gone on for some time their barrages had slowed considerably.

"Bianca needs a break, blondie," the dwarf warned Hawke. "Besides, in this light she might leave a new part in Mr. Guard Captain's perfect hair, and Aveline would flay me alive!"

"You serve up the running commentary!" Hawke shouted. She squinted, and rubbed a spray of tar like darkspawn blood out of her eyes.

"And the good looks. Don't forget the good looks!"

Hawke rolled her eyes and yanked her battle axe out of a hurlock's back. She whirled around for the next attack, and plunged the axe into a genlock's throat. Varric's good looks weren't going to hold up long in this neighbourhood, she grimaced. Personally, were she on her own, she would be grateful for the darkspawn attack. Running at her enemies, her weapon sweeping a vicious arc before her, seeing them cringe back and fall at her feet; this was exactly what she needed. The bone-jarring impact of her weapon embedding in the rotten flesh of the undead felt good to her aching arms right now. But she worried about her friends, who were surely tiring. Yet another scrape she had gotten them into. It was her responsibility to get them to safety. Wherever safety was.

There was only a slip of moon, and against the still burning backdrop of Kirkwall, the stars shone dim. Everything looked like a wave of shadow, and with blood already in her eyes...

"Hey Broody!" Varric yelled. "Think you can turn up the lights on those tattoos so we can see what we're doing here?"

Nearby, Fenris was neatly skewering a line of wraiths on his enormous sword, and ignored Varric's comment. With both hands he hoisted the writhing mess of them over the cliffside and kicked them over, pulling his sword back neatly. The elven swordsman glanced over his shoulder at Isabela, who was making a sport of tripping her opponents and shoving them over the ledge. They both needed to keep an eye on Sebastian, who had been in a kind of daze ever since the destruction of the Chantry and was showing signs of exhaustion.

Varric turned back to Hawke, grappling with her own troupe of wraiths just in front of her. "Why don't the mages just light up the place?"

"Certainly Varric, let's invite all the darkspawn in Thedas to join us here," she hollered over her shoulder. She thew up her gauntleted arm, just in time to deflect a set of claws groping for her face. There were only three of them on her now, but not enough room to wield her axe. Varric turned Bianca around and smashed her into what resembled a face on the nearest wraith. It stumbled, and Hawke pulled Varric back. She then swung her axe mightily across its midsection, and cleaved it in half. She made short work of the other two.

They could hear the mages blasting away at a whole wave of monsters. Merrill and Bethany avoided fire and lightning, which tended to attract hungry darkspawn, and primarily focused earth magics to beat on the unholy creatures with stone fists. Aveline and Donnic, side by side, shielded the spellcasters from flanking attacks, the three other guards watching their backs.

When Hawke had completely had her fill of decapitating the darkspawn, she shouted up the line to hold their position. The group pulled in tighter, within speaking distance, hungry creatures ringing around them. "Think we're far enough?" she asked them all.

Aveline gazed back at the fiery shape of Kirkwall in the distance. "We're far enough that anyone chasing us would be deterred by a swarm of darkspawn from following any further. I don't think we can cover much more ground before dawn, at this rate anyway."

Hawke nodded tiredly. "Can we make some sort of shelter?"

Bethany and Merrill halted their pummeling of darkspawn long enough to use whatever stone could be magicked out of that ragged earth for a makeshift barrack. They built this against the cliffside and formed a tiny cave protected on three sides. It would need defending on the fourth side. "Mages first," Hawke insisted, knowing how depleted they would be from the days events. "The rest of us can rest after daylight."

Merrill was so thoroughly exhausted that she climbed into the shelter without another word.

Bethany looked back at Hawke. "Can you keep beating back those creatures until dawn, Sadie?"

Hawke gestured to Varric and Sebastian, who were now freed up to send volleys of arrows into the darkspawn horde. "We'll manage, Bethany. Get some sleep."

Aveline, who had slipped up beside Hawke and taken her arm, fairly pushed her in after her sister. "You get some rest too, Hawke. We're going to need you in the morning."

Hawke protested, but not a lot. Varric and Isabela were looking pretty fresh, Sebastian seemed to have gotten a second wind, and she could just make out Fenris tirelessly slashing away at anything that came near the archers. The guardsmen, too, were competent enough to at least hold the darkspawn at bay until one of Hawke's companions could mow them down. All they really had to do was _not die _before daylight. When morning came, and hated daylight moved in, most darkspawn would lose interest and wander off since they were not commanded by a blood mage to continue their attack. It was surely safe to rest.

Inside the barracks, just as soon as she had curled up on the bare ground next to her sister, Hawke went to sleep.

—

_And she was back, almost immediately, in Kirkwall, in front of the smouldering husk of the Chantry._

_Anders was there, too, with his hands up between them beseechingly. He was wearing his long black fur that he had so taken to in those last months. Hawke hated that black coat._

"_Please understand," he was saying._

_That was the whole dream, and it was endless. It was just this. Standing there. Trapped there in that terrible moment, staring at her lover and the thing that he had done._


	2. Morning on the Wounded Coast

Hawke awoke to a facefull of Isabela's wild hair; the Rivani had crawled into the shelter sometime during the night, plunked herself down right between Hawke and Bethany, and was now blissfully snoring sandwiched between them. There were worse ways to wake - Isabela was a warm and comfortable bedmate, as Hawke knew from experience. But there were things to do, and she did not want to lie abed all morning.

Rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, Hawke glanced around the darkened space. Bethany was still sleeping. Merrill had already risen and was replaced by another shape that she momentarily confused with Anders, but of course it wasn't; it looked to be Sebastian, miserably huddled against the stone wall. Two guardsmen she did not recognize were splayed across the entrance, and Hawke had to climb over them to leave.

She emerged from the shelter to find the sun newly risen. Everyone seemed to be alive and in possession of the usual number of limbs.

It was, in short, a splendid morning.

Setting aside the weapon she had dragged along, Hawke stretched her weary limbs. She noted Merrill had conjured a fire of some sort and was warming herself besides it. One would have thought, looking at her, that this was some kind of exciting camping excursion. She smiled cheerfully at Hawke and waved, and Hawke had to restrain herself from throwing a weapon at her. Morning people were the very worst kind of people, as far as she was concerned.

Hawke stepped lightly over to Varric, who was sitting nearby, propped against the cliffs with Bianca cradled in his arms. Hawke had to wave her hands in front of his face a few times to verify that he was actually asleep. He had the disconcerting habit of sleeping with his eyes open. It was a handy skill for rogueish dwarves, particularly ones living in the Hanged Man, but she found it downright creepy. Although she did envy his ability to sleep soundly just about anywhere. Hawke was pretty sure she had hardly slept at all.

The warrior stood up once again and scanned for the rest of her party. She noted Fenris sitting on an outcropping above them all, looking down the road intently. Aveline and Donnic were nowhere to be seen. Either they were asleep in the crowded shelter and she hadn't seen them, or they were scouting the area. Knowing Aveline, they were probably scouting the area.

Clad only in a shift and trousers and carrying her favorite axe, which she had grabbed on the way out of the shelter, Hawke set out walking. She always kept her weapon within arm's reach, even when sleeping, and she had a strong preference for axes. She went through them like some other people went through shoes; over-enthusiastic by nature, Hawke had an unfortunate tendency to break off the best bits in her opponent's skulls. The current axe, in all honesty, was also approaching uselessness, but there had been no chance to sharpen and repair it. She could have used one of her companions' weapons, but they all preferred swords (to a degree Isabela would have called symbolic). Hawke was not a big fan of swords, never had been. Most likely she would continue with this weapon until it fell apart in her hands before resorting to anything else.

The sun shone down on the weathered coast with benevolent warmth, chasing away some of the night's chill. It was low still in the sky, leaving a few hours at least to rest and recouperate before they would have to move on.

Hawke raked a hand carelessly through her hair, which was its usual mess. When was the last time she looked at a mirror? She could go days without checking her reflection under normal conditions, and she didn't want to imagine what she might look like now. Unlike her sister Bethany, who was classically beautiful in any circumstance, presentable was about the best Hawke could manage. She was a fighter, an up-close and personal scrapper, and the defender of her sister and her family as long as she could remember. It had taken its toll. Her skin was weathered and scarred from years of combat. She was naturally a bit stocky, but years of serious training had stripped whatever curves she might have had and replaced them with hard muscle. She was short and tough, not pretty. Bethany was the pretty one. Hawke had wit and skill to go on, and the ability to bluff when either of them failed her. She gave as little thought as possible to her looks.

Hawke re-fixed her hair into its customary loose ponytail and strapped her axe across her back before looking up along the chalky cliff. She could see the path Fenris must have taken up the cliff. It was fully out of sight from where he was sitting, and Hawke was certain that she made no sound on the way up, hoping, for a bit of fun, to catch him unawares. She had no metal armor to clang together and reveal her position, and she was a nimble climber. She had scurried up the cliff-face with hardly a pause, and with no sounds of rock fall at all.

But as soon as she edged into sight of the elven warrior, he was already looking over his shoulder directly at her. _Damnation. How does he always do that?_ For someone who hated magic as much as he did, his awareness of her approach was practically supernatural.

Of course, she would never let Fenris know when he had caught her out. "Hoy!" she called over as she straightened up, as though that were just what she was always going to do. "Spotted anything useful? Say, a caravan of bakers hauling pastries? A shipment of featherbeds? A hat stall for Isabella?"

"Nothing of the kind, sadly," Fenris answered her. He looked weary. He was still wearing all of his armor - of course - and Hawke was not sure whether he had slept at all.

She sat down next to him in the dirt and dangled her feet over the cliff's edge. For a time there was companionable silence and they sat together with the morning sun on their faces. Then Hawke cleared her throat.

"I've been meaning to say," she began uncertainly, "thank you."

The elf raised an eyebrow. "For what?"

"For staying with us even though we sided with Orsino and the mages. I know it wasn't what you wanted."_That__'__s __the __understatement __of __all __time_, Hawke thought.

"It wasn't," Fenris said flatly. "It was certainly not what I would have done."

"But…" His eyes met hers briefly. "I have never gone wrong following your lead. I could not have done otherwise," he added quietly.

Hawke smiled at this. She had halfway expected him to shout at her, all things considered.

"I doubt it would have gone much better had you made the opposite choice, " he added reluctantly. "Considering the Knight-Commander's possession of the dwarven idol. She was indeed mad after all."

She snorted. "I think I've made a lot of choices I'd like to take back. Meredith wouldn't have even had the damned idol if we had stayed out of the Deep Roads. Or prevented Bartrand from running off with the thing." Sighing, she continued. "Perhaps someone else should take a turn at being the leader. I've fucked it all up pretty spectacularly."

"Untrue," Fenris countered matter-of-factly. "Kirkwall would have been a Qunari training camp or ended as a crater years ago if you had not defeated the Arishok. There would have been nothing to save."

Hawke conceded, "there is that, I suppose."

"You have held our… rather distinctive group together through all of this as well. That is an accomplishment."

"Distinctive is one way of putting it."

He smirked. "Also, you are very bossy. I don't think you could stop telling the rest of us what to do."

"All right; I get the point," Hawke said, feeling just a little bit better. "I'm not resigning my commission just yet."

"Then what is next, my friend?"

"Believe it or not, I haven't the faintest idea." Hawke rubbed at the bridge of her nose. "What do you think we should do, Fenris?"

The elf blinked back at her. He had eventually stopped being startled by Hawke's odd habit of asking for his advice, but offering his own ideas had never come naturally for him. He turned back out to sea for a moment, his brow furrowed slightly.

Hawke was prepared to wait a long time for his answer, possibly the rest of the day, and was slightly surprised when he blurted out relatively quickly: "Sebastian has asked me to accompany him to Starkhaven."

She startled a bit.

"Yes, I remember. He was trying to recruit you for his hypothetical army, in his possible coup, if he ever gets around to it."

"Not so hypothetical now. He asked me again this morning, while you were asleep." Fenris looked strangely guilty about this admission. "After what happened at the Chantry.. .he wants to return to his homeland immediately and retake his throne. He has invited me to join him."

Hawke did her very best not to look crestfallen. Fenris was by far the best warrior of their party, and they could certainly use him. As a fighter he was nearly unstoppable, and she had learned a great deal from him over the years. They had even developed a strong rapport, and she enjoyed his company. But she knew that he and Sebastian were friends, and she had always known that Fenris would eventually move on without her. "I will hate to see you go," she said quietly.

Very quickly indeed, Fenris corrected her. "I have not given him my reply."

Hawke didn't know if that meant he had not yet made up his mind, or if he just hadn't told Sebastian "yes" yet. She found herself determined to persuade him otherwise. "I didn't think you were interested in being a soldier, even in a friend's homemade army."

"I am not. Or I was not. But in truth, fighting is the only thing I know how to do. Sebastian seems to think there would be a use for me there. And he has ideas, about the future." Clearly he had given this a great deal of thought. "He wishes the lives of the Elves to improve, or so he tells me. Not just in his army, but in the kingdom he would rule."

"And he will give you a nice barony for your efforts?"

He scowled at her for that. "I do not wish for any land or title. I would only see that Sebastian takes his rightful place and that he will keep his promise to oppose slavery. That would be satisfying to me."

Hawke doubted he would turn down a title if offered, for the irony of it if nothing else. A slave in Tevinter, and an elf besides, becoming a Lord of Starkhaven… Fenris would probably enjoy that. But then again, he had lived amongst nobility in Kirkwall and done nothing but sneer at them and allow the fine mansion he had claimed to fall into disrepair, so he was hard to predict.

"Oh, you're a philanthropist now? You've been awfully good at hiding your noble intentions of becoming Savior of the Elvish." Her sarcasm earned her a hmph that might have been amused. "But what about mages?"

"How did I know that magic would come in to this?" As always, he said the m-word as if it burned his tongue.

"Does he plan to recapture his homeland without their aid? Or fight against both the mages and the enemy army all at once?"

"You will have to ask him. I imagine he will enlist their aid under some restrictions."

"Such as submitting to a circle, or to tranquility? How tempting. No mage good enough to be useful would volunteer for such a thing. And I know you would not abide enslaving them against their will," she pointed out deliberately. "There are many good mages who would make both soldiers and citizens for Sebastian's rule. But I doubt an elf like Merrill, for instance, would have a place in any kingdom of Choirboy's. Or even a good and reliable woman like my sister."

Here Fenris was definitely smirking, as though he was long expecting this particular point, and had already prepared a reply. "Perhaps if you were to join him as well, Hawke, you would be in a position to convince him otherwise."

Hawke stared at him quizzically for a moment, and then burst out laughing. "Oh, Fen! That wasn't even a little bit subtle!"

Fenris looked slightly abashed. Perhaps to make up for having revealed his aims, and having shown any tolerance towards the hated mages, his temper flared dramatically.

"Even you would have to admit," he said sharply, his face darkening, "that a country without apostates would be a far safer place. Without the scourge of blood magic and abominations…" he trailed off, looking away again at the sea instead of boring holes in Hawke's head with his burning glare. He seemed to take some effort to pull himself back, but couldn't help finishing. "Such a land would be a haven for many who have suffered at the hands of destructive magics."

Hawke shook her head. This was an old argument, one that had been held many times before. She knew very well that Fenris would never be comfortable with magic after his experiences in Tevinter, and that if it were up to him, he would eliminate magic from Thedas entirely. For his part, Fenris knew very well that Hawke came from a family full of mages, and that she was steadfast in her belief that otherwise law-abiding mages should be free. Neither of them was about to budge on the subject. Of late, she tried to avoid discussing it with him. It was uncomfortably similar to banging one's head against the wall.

"Sebastian feels much the same…" he continued, still looking away. "But if you were to come… well, we know your opinions on the matter and that you will not hesitate to voice them. And I…would not oppose you."

"Well, that's encouragement. You won't actively oppose me," Hawke needled him.

"Woman, let me finish," he snapped at her. "I am pointing out that you are the Champion of Kirkwall and your words will hold some weight. If you care so much for your precious mages you should bend Sebastian's ear now before he is king of Starkhaven."

"How thoughtful of you." Despite her tone, Hawke felt a surge of affection for her reticent friend, who would not come right out and ask her to travel with him. It sounded like he would not leave with Sebastian if it would mean abandoning her. Out of…gratitude, perhaps? A sense of duty? Or did he imagine her falling to the next threat that came along, due to her often-referenced (by Fenris) lack of good sense? Leaving her now might seem like a betrayal, especially with the templars on her heels. Or perhaps it was only habit. Hawke didn't really know.

She added, more quietly, "I don't know what I want to do now, but you should know you aren't obligated to stay with me, Fenris. I will understand if you need to follow your own path."

Fenris looked down at the ground. He had re-assumed his usual disinterested expression, but she could see the tips of his long elven ears were slightly reddened. "When the time comes, Hawke, I will move on, but for now I believe it will be safer for all of us to stay together. As someone has been telling me incessantly in recent years, there is some safety in numbers."

"Now who could that be? Not someone you gave any sign of listening to."

"You may find purpose of your own in Starkhaven, if you will only talk to Sebastian. It is a suggestion, nothing more. You asked," he added defensively.

"I did ask." Hawke pondered this. "I'll talk to Sebastian about it. We'll see."


	3. Kirkwall Interlude: Lessons

_**Author's note: Thank you SOOO much for the comments and follows so far. I'm such a n00b and any feedback means a lot to me. Anyway, every so often there's going to be a flashback chapter like this that will give some context as to what happened during game-time to lead up to the current situation. As well, I want to show how the characters related to each other back when they first met, and show some of the game's events through their eyes. I hope they're enjoyable for you.**_

_**Added note: I posted an additional flashback, from Fenris's point of view, as a separate story. (It got too long to include here!) .net/s/7713869/1/Sadie_Hawke**_

_Kirkwall interlude #1: Lessons_

Almost immediately after she met him, Sadie Hawke wanted Fenris to train her as a fighter. She could see right away that the elven fugitive was a skilled and experienced swordsman. That first night, when they had broken into Danarius' manor, Hawke watched the white-haired stranger cut down as many shades as the rest of them put together. Though taller than any elf she'd ever seen, he was a good deal shorter than most of his opponents, only a bit taller than Hawke herself. He still cut through them like paper dolls with that enormous sword of his. In battle he remained perfectly controlled. Focused, despite his clearly long-held desire for vengance.

Hawke was impressed. She admired his form, the way he made every move look completely effortless and yet utterly lethal. She admired a few other things too, but that, she reminded herself, was completely besides the point.

While Hawke could sweet-talk the shield off a Templar, her actual fighting abilities were rather crude. She had taught herself to fight for the most part, using whatever weapons she could beg, borrow, or steal. The necessity was grave; her father and sister were apostates, and the need to flee from one village to another had left them nearly destitute. Hawke, as the eldest child, needed to protect her siblings, especially her little sister. As well, though her father never entirely approved of it, she insisted on watching his back as he did his business. Mage-hunters were everywhere, and even one as powerful as her father needed backup on occasion. On top of all that, their pitiful farm was sometimes ransacked by bandits who would not be deterred by a 14-year-old girl with a rusty blade, not until she had the skills to put it to use.

So she had trained herself. She lifted more than her share of every load, and she pushed the plow herself to build the muscles in her arms. Every day, until her legs burned and ached, she ran a circuit around the Hawke property and through the village and the countryside. She cut through the fields with a scythe until it was as natural to her as walking.

Sadie watched any guards and soldiers she could find to see how they gripped their weapons, how they wore them, and their form as they thrusted, jabbed, and sliced. She imitated their movements. Now and again she could persuade one of them to let her hold their weapon, feel the weight of it, and maybe learn a simple strike. They thought it was cute the way she was so determined to wield a blade, even though she was too short to be at all intimidating. Hawke learned to talk back to them; her wit was sharper by far than her swordplay, and it got her farther than girlish helplessness. It earned their respect and camaraderie. It made them take her almost seriously.

Hawke practiced any move she could pick up from these men. At 16, when bandits attempted to break into the storehouse in the middle of the night, she was ready for them. They left surprised and bloodied and did not return.

Carver taught her a few things, years later, after he joined the army. He showed her proper drills, with setup and follow-through and positioning for the next move. That as as close to real training as Hawke had ever gotten - a few drills from her younger brother, who had only meagre training himself before he was shipped off to Ostagar.

Fenris, on the other hand, had been a magister's bodyguard, and had clearly spent much of his life fighting. Though it was not by choice, and she knew his enslavement in Tevinter must have been unimaginably awful, his experiences had made him very skilled indeed. Hawke could see that Fenris was a better soldier than her poor brother had been, and was not ashamed to admit that he was far better than her.

Well.. maybe it did bother her a little. She had worked incredibly hard to be a fearsome warrior, and she had learned not to show weakness to her brothers-at-arms. Particularly not to intriguing and handsome ones that under other circumstances she'd really like to impress. But Hawke still needed to protect what was left of her family, to support her mother, and to keep Bethany away from the Circle. Nothing meant more to her than that. So she swallowed her pride and asked for help.

* * *

><p>Of course, being Hawke, she went about it all wrong. She couldn't just ask, you see. She had to make it a joke. And of all places, she had to do it in The Hanged Man, where it was hard to have a conversation of any kind, much less make a serious request. And she had to do it in front of Varric, who was constitutionally unable to resist a good opening. Consequently, when she suggested over her mug of ale that perhaps Fenris could offer them all a lesson in swordsmanship, Varric jumped in to add that he could also demonstrate a proper sulk for them, while he was at it.<p>

Hawke could not help bursting out laughing, both at Varric's comment and at the scowl Fenris shot him in return.

"He could give you dwarves the course in good manners you desperately need," Aveline admonished him.

And of course Hawke had to add: "I'd like Fenris and Merrill to teach me to walk around shoeless in Darktown without catching a horrible foot infection!"

And then Varric had to contribute: "Fenris could explain the various uses of punching your fist into things. Beginner's fisting."

And Isabela suddenly appeared out of nowhere to say: "Did someone mention fisting? I miss all the fun conversations."

And Fenris, who had glowered through this entire conversation, took the opportunity while everyone was laughing uproariously to excuse himself and disappear abruptly from the Hanged Man, before Hawke could explain to him that this was actually supposed to be a serious request.

She knew Fenris thought she was only making sport of him. Which she was, but... It was silly, really - she and Varric made fun of everybody. It was not meant to be cruel. That was just how they related to people. But Sadie caught on quickly that this was not the right approach. Her new friend was wounded, in a way, and his injuries were still fresh. The smallest slight made him slam up a stone wall of defense. If she was going to get around that, she would have to be more considerate.

The next time, Hawke asked him quite seriously. She was visiting Fenris in his manor, watching him drain and smash a succession of probably very expensive bottles of wine. He was in a surprisingly talkative mood; alcohol seemed to do that to him. Turning thoughtful, he asked her about Ferelden, and she told him a bit about the Blight, and about Carver. It seemed like a good opportunity to bring the subject up, even though she hated to talk about what happened to her brother.

"Mother blames me," she admitted. "I'm the eldest, it was always my job to look after the twins. Then an ogre gets ahold of Carver and I can do nothing but watch as he's smashed to bits."

"Your brother was rash; you have said so yourself. You had no time to act."

She blurted it out: "I hadn't the skill." Unpleasant to admit, but there it was. She should have asked for her own bottle of wine after all. "Until the Blight I had never faced anything larger than a tavern drunkard. An ogre was beyond my abilities."

Fenris smiled at her, probably from too much wine. "It seems you managed," he pointed out.

"It was utterly luck. Oh, don't get me wrong. I would never turn down a good fight, and I have never run from anything in my life. And cutting the heads off ogres is awfully enjoyable, as it turns out. But I know very well that Bethany and Mother and I just barely escaped Lothering with our lives. If I'm going to keep us alive and take back my mother's estate, I will need to get better. A lot better."

"Your time in the Red Iron did not help?"

"No one in the Red Iron had your skill." He was a direct sort of man, she thought he would appreciate a direct appeal. "I could learn a lot from you, if you were willing to teach me. I daresay there are few in Kirkwall who could beat you in a fair fight. I want to fight like you do."

This time he flatly told her no.

"I cannot." Suddenly serious, he rose from his chair and made to lead her from the room.

Frustrated, she pressed him. "Oh come now, I'm not beyond help, am I? I promise to be a good student. I won't waste your time."

"I would not be a good teacher for you, Hawke. It isn't a good idea."

And that seemed to be that. Hawke stomped home, incensed. Did he think so little of her, that she would be unable to learn from him? That she would never be able to fight as he did? Well, she would certainly enjoy proving him wrong! She grumbled in this manner all the way back to Lowtown.

Though Sadie did not stay angry for long, she did give up on the idea of Fenris as her mentor. There was only so much rejection a girl could take.

* * *

><p>Weeks later, in one of those giant spider-infested caves that they seemed to continually find themselves in, she caught Fenris watching her closely as she sliced the legs off a particularly nasty specimen.<p>

_He must think I'm utterly hopeless_, she thought. _He's killed four of the damned things in the time it's taken me to take down this one._ She raised her double-bladed axe high above her head and slammed it down into the body of the creature with all her strength, killing the horrid creature. How she hated spiders! The little ones were fine, but once they were big enough to count the eyes they stopped being cute.

Bethany and Varric could be heard shouting to each other at a distance. The sizzling sound of Beth's fireballs told Hawke they were nearly done with their own fighting.

"What is it, then?" she asked Fenris. "Out with it. Is there something in my teeth?"

"Hmm?" He was clearly pretending not to know what she was talking about as he brushed spider bits off his trousers with feigned casualness.

"I've noticed you watching me before, you know. If you're worried that I can't handle myself, you can stay home next time. I can clear a spiders' nest my own bloody self."

Hawke was still kicking herself for having revealed so much in their previous meeting. Her honesty had gotten her nowhere, and now Fenris seemed to be checking her for flaws. It made her terribly self-conscious.

"Does your back hurt?" he said abruptly.

Taken aback, she scowled at him. "What kind of question is that?"

Fenris advanced on her, and reached out a hand to the axe she held. Reflexively, she pulled it closer. "What on earth are you doing?"

"The problem is the way you're holding it-your hands. A larger fighter could grip it like this, but you require more leverage. You create more work for yourself this way. I imagine your upper back must be quite sore."

Hawke stared back at him. The fact of him noticing her, examining her hands and her stance, made her feel strange. It brought heat to her face.

It also made her defensive, a bit.

"I think I know how to hold my own weapon," she protested. Even though it was true - her back did ache, and rather frequently.

"As you wish, but I thought you had asked for my advice." The elf released her axe and regarded her coolly, standing closer than she could remember him doing before. He had green eyes, she noted, under that shaggy white hair. She had never noticed them before.

"Show me," she said.

He grabbed her axe again with one hand, and she released it. His arms were not muscular, but they were strong. It must be an elf thing. They were all like that. Always slender, never bulky, but where did the strength come from? With his off-hand, Fenris guided her grip. "One here, the other here. Turning a bit. There. Then, when you swing..."

Varric and Bethany returned to find the two of them in a fairly compromising position. Hawke was holding her axe upright in front of her, and they were standing almost nose to nose, talking quietly. Innocent, but awfully... close.

"Bonding over weaponry," Varric said loudly enough to make Hawke jump back guiltily. "Warriors. This is why we should only bring one of them at a time."

Bethany giggled, and hoped this meant her sister would be a lot less moody.

* * *

><p>Weeks later, Hawke was able to get one more lesson from Fenris. Once again, it was his idea.<p>

Her party had just been ambushed by Ser Karras and his command of Templars on the Wounded Coast. This immediately after she had agreed to look the other way while a group of runaway apostates headed for the hills. Typical bad luck on their part when, instead of greeting the reasonable Thrask outside the caves, they found the much less cooperative Karras hounding their steps. Hawke had tried unsuccessfully to talk them down, explaining her deep and abiding friendship with Ser Thrask and how he had allowed her to do him the favor of ridding him of the band of apostates inside the cave that they were now exiting, and that there was really no need for them to investigate further, so let's all go back to Kirkwall and have ourselves a drink or three.

Unfortunately, Ser Karras found this... unpersuasive. And ordered his batallion to kill them all.

_Brilliant, we're fighting Templars now. Is there anyone in Kirkwall we haven't pissed off yet?_ Hawke had actually never fought against a Templar, although she had been intimidated throughout her life by tales of their prowess and their holy conviction. Happily, it turned out they bled like any other soldier. Better armored and more disciplined soldiers, but beatable. Perhaps she had let this pleasant discovery go to her head, because well into the battle she found herself alone and surrounded. She had been wrapped up in menacing a single Templar, indistinguishable in his helmet and uniform, into a niche in the cliffside. Only after she slashed her axe across his abdomen and watched his armor bloom red did she notice three of them creeping up behind her, and more on the way. There was no sign of her fellows, but they must have been right around the corner. A little worried, Hawke shouted for backup. "Little help here! Assist! Hoy, do I need to send up a fl-"

Smashed in the face with a Templar shield, Hawke staggered back, silenced, and kept on backing up. Three swords advanced on her, and too close for her to swing her axe. Where on earth were her companions? Was she going to be cut down on the bloody beach with reinforcements twenty feet away? _What a stupid way to die._

Just as her back hit the cliffside and she was officially out of room, all three Templars crumpled, felled by an angry glowing elf with a ridiculously large sword.

"Foolish woman," Fenris scolded her as soon as the soldiers hit the ground. "Staring at your enemies is not an effective maneuver."

The other Templars menacing her a moment ago had apparently thought better of things and fled, leaving her and the elf temporarily alone. Hawke recovered quickly, returning to her default jovial tone. "I don't know, I thought I might sing them a little song. Do you think they knew the one about Pirate Jenny and the Black Freighter? Isabela taught it to me, it's very impressive."

"_Venhedis_! Be serious! Hawke," he said gravely, "you do know the best defensive moves for a two-handed weapon, do you not?"

"A good offense?" she offered sheepishly. She did not, in fact, know very many defensive moves against Templars at all, apart from keeping them the hell away from her with many emphatic swings of her axe.

He shook his head at her and said something in his own language that did not sound polite. He was really quite incensed, she realized. It was nearly the same reaction as when the subject was mages, or slavers, or Danarius. She felt slightly guilty (and confused) to be making him upset. But then, he had been upset with her throughout this entire fiasco, and was surely not pleased to be combatting Templars in the defense of escaped apostate mages.

Abruptly he turned and jumped back into the fray, attacking the row of Templar archers at the perimeter and leaving Hawke staring after him crossly. If Fenris did not like her helping mages, he was going to have to get over it or stay behind. As for her fighting skills.. well, she didn't know what to do for that, except charge back into battle herself and hope for the best. Which she did.

Once the Templars were routed, and the situation with Thrask settled, and the group headed back into the city, Fenris pulled her aside. Under his glare Hawke thought for a moment that this would be where he announced his debt to her repaid and parted from their company.

Instead, he announced matter-of-factly, "There is a ballroom in Danarius's manor that stands empty."

Hawke raised an eyebrow. "Yes, there is?"

"Come tonight. We will practice."

You could have knocked her over with one of Anders' feathered pauldrons.

* * *

><p>Later that night, Hawke apprehensively appeared at his deserted Hightown mansion.<p>

Fenris was waiting for her in the ballroom, as promised. He had a sword for her. "There's nothing wrong with swords," he put in when she made a face. "You are intimidated by them. Why?"

"They require some finesse, I suppose." Hawke admitted. "With an axe I can just... hit things."

"Today you use a sword."

He gave it to her, and she gripped it with both hands. "You're not going to make me hold a shield, are you? Shields are for wimps."

Fenris chuckled at that. "I suppose I agree. You can use your weapon for the entire defense you need, with a few simple moves."

Of course, they were simple to him - to Hawke, they were completely foreign. Fenris showed her three blocks, one of which she was already doing, clumsily, and two she had seen him use before but much too quickly to understand. She mimicked the movements decently, but her sluggish actions felt as though she were underwater.

Fenris, too, seemed uncomfortable and nervous at first, for some reason. Hesitant. The longer they worked, however, the more natural it felt, and eventually he was guiding her more confidently through the exercise. For her part, Hawke was too consumed with her practice to talk very much. Normally she would be producing a steady stream of jokes and flippiant remarks to cover her own nervousness, but somehow all of that was unnecessary here. It felt right to be serious, for once.

Once she had made some progress in her forms, Fenris proposed they spar for a time. He made some (very slow) attacks, repeating the same moves over and over until Hawke was reacting more naturally to them. The attacks began to vary, so that Hawke would have to select the correct response. She had her sword knocked out of her hands a few times, but for the most part, she seemed to be getting it.

In one particularly good effort, she managed to twist her wrist and wrench the sword from his hands. Hawke did a little leap of victory she felt was well-earned (but only once his back was turned). Grinning, she set herself for the next volley. "So when is this going to get difficult?"

"Easy, is it?" Fenris retrieved his sword and set himself once again. "Then I shall attack more quickly. Just defend. Use any of the blocks I showed you."

"All right. Don't hold back."

He didn't. Suddenly Fenris was everywhere at once. He whipped around her with such great speed that she was completely overwhelmed. There seemed to be at least three of him, all barely brushing her with his sword, slicing a strand of hair from her head. He smashed her once across the back with the flat of his blade, sending her staggering. Her success of just a few minutes ago was thoroughly forgotten now, and Hawke started getting irritated.

"Defend!" She heard the command from behind her, but by the time she whirled around, he was already somewhere else.

"I said 'don't hold back', not 'please kill me'!" she shouted. "You're just showing off!"

Fenris paused at some distance away, lowering his greatsword for a moment. He was smirking at her, which was infuriating. _He's enjoying this_, she realized. _Bastard_.

"Templars will not slow themselves for your convenience, Hawke, and they will not hesitate to run you through." He raised his sword again, ready to strike.

"No Templar is this fast. This is unfair."

"There is no fairness in this world."

With that, he attacked again. This time he darted in and out, striking her armor in various points, marking all the spots she was failing to defend. Hawke's blocks were too slow to catch him. Her sword was bloody useless. _If only I were using one of my own weapons, it would be a different story! Then it wouldn't be so funny!_

In frustration, and without planning it at all, Hawke rolled sideways and jammed upwards with her weapon, using her sword like a pike, and Fenris ran right into it. She caught him in the side with a force that tore the blade right out of her hands and jarred the bones of her body painfully.

The momentum carried Fenris away several more steps, and then he staggered and clutched his side, and Hawke's breath caught in her throat. _Oh shit. Oh, idiot you've hurt him_! She leapt to her feet and rushed to his side, the exercise forgotten.

Hawke grabbed at his arms, forgetting the way he would flinch away at her touch. "It's all right," he said tightly, removing his hands so she could see. His armor had caught the brunt of her strike, but she had definitely managed to slice him open. Dark sticky blood leaked through his breastplate.

"Oh Maker, I'm sorry," Hawke blurted, horrified.

"It's not deep. I will go to dress it. Wait here."

Somewhat painfully but reassuringly quickly, Fenris strode out of the room and disappeared into the manor. Hawke waited for awhile, leaning against the wall, and then slid to the floor and put her chin in her hands. She felt like a girl again, a clumsy girl who needed so much to be stronger to protect what she had. If her other companions had seen this pitiful display, they could never take her seriously again. Certainly Fenris wouldn't.

Lost in her thoughts, Hawke didn't hear him return quietly to the room until he was standing over her. She looked up at him. He looked no different, but the blood was cleaned off his armor.

"Are you.. all right?"

"Yes, I am fine. The wound was superficial. I have bandaged it."

It occurred to Hawke that she had never once seen the elf without armor, not in normal clothes and certainly not bare-chested. Surely he must take the bloody thing off sometime. He must have taken it off just now, cleaned his wound, and put it back on. _And I need to stop thinking about Fenris taking off his clothes. Maker's breath._

"I'm awfully sorry," she repeated.

To her surprise, he sat down on the dusty floor beside her. "It is nothing. Injuries in training are to be expected. I fear you haven't learned much, though."

Hawke blanched at this. "I may be rotten now, but once I've practiced-"

"No. I'm explaining this wrongly." Fenris sighed and closed his eyes, and bending his head, his white hair blocked his face from her. "I should have known better. This is exactly why I did not want to train you, Hawke."

Hawke started to interrupt, but he talked over her.

"I am not a teacher, Hawke. Or a mentor. I was not so much taught to fight as forced to at the point of a sword. When I did not perform the drills correctly, I was punished. That is the only way I know."

"Punished," she repeated, softer.

"Beaten."

Silence, for a moment.

Hawke shook her head thoughtfully. "You were doing fine before I bled you. I don't know what I was thinking - I wasn't thinking. I just acted."

"You are a natural warrior. Though untrained, your instincts carry you through. That makes you dangerous."

Hawke was surprised. It sounded like.. a compliment?

"Experience will give you the training you need. You pick things up quickly. Many soldiers fight for decades to become as strong as you, and you are still learning. I think you will be quite formidable someday."

Was she blushing? Did he really say formidable?

Fenris went on. "I am not like you. I underwent a great deal of training. I was drilled extensively every waking moment for a very long time. It is a reflex to me now. But it is a rote, programmed response. Most of the guards and templars we meet are like this, and they are all trained the same way. They have the same strategies, the same attacks. I can see several moves down the line and respond accordingly. But you are different. You I cannot predict."

"I think if you were extensively trained, you would lose that quality. And it would be a shame."

She was definitely blushing. She could feel the red in her cheeks. Also, possibly all of the blood had drained out of her brain, because for once she could not think of a single thing to say.

"You would do well, however, to learn some defensive moves. I would not like to see you run through by one of these simpletons because they took a lucky strike." He pressed his hand to his side, smiling wryly. "Another night, perhaps."

Hawke was having trouble forming words after that, but she was pretty sure she said she would look forward to it.

But there was no other night. There was the Deep Roads excursion, and the weeks trapped underground, and they left no time or energy for training. And when they all returned from that disaster, Hawke had taken up with Anders, and Fenris had very little to say to her for a long while.


End file.
